


Solo

by leebaemin



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, M/M, Post-Break Up, Resentment, Taemin falls in love a bit late... Jongin even later, some things work out... some do not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leebaemin/pseuds/leebaemin
Summary: Jongin is at his second public relationship and Taemin is tired of being in love with him - so he does the healthiest thing... he places in motion the slow and agonizing process of putting distance between himself and Jongin. There are consequences.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin, Lee Taemin/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darling taekai shippers, here's a brand new story, fresh from this quarantine. Not a very happy piece, but I hope you'll enjoy the ride, nonetheless.
> 
> Enjoy and just as always, comments are more than well-received:)

Solo - solo artist, _solo_. Friends - best or not? Or at all?

Silly notions crowded the storm that was his mind while at this particular moment in time he had a mocking of a choice to make. A good reason to stay, a good reason to go - Taemin got enough arguments for each course of action. But… idiotic love cast aside… what was he really aiming at? _And missing. Definitely missing. Not within his reach._

His chest ached, it ached! It burned just as bad as his own sad love songs said it will!

 _But_ … hurt or not Jongin already bid him goodbye for the night and perhaps for this life... so what was Taemin supposed to do? Go back, knock on his door and be like _hey Nini, you may have a gorgeous girlfriend but I’m in love with you to the point of desperation. Please love me back. Please._ Smile a bit for the obvious purpose? Cry perhaps? Evoke pity? Friendship duty? Then _what_ in the face of a humiliating yet well-intended refusal? Disappear from the face of the Earth, face away from the selfish act? Or worse… _disgust_?

Nonsense. Utter nonsense.

Taemin shifted into gear and drove off, leaving the parking lot and the familiar apartment building behind. _Leaving Kim Jongin behind. Let him stay there. Let him stay where he’s happy, with whom is making him happy._ The red traffic lights seemed to laugh at Taemin and his justifications, just like the stupid happy song on the radio, a familiar female voice he couldn’t quite bother to place. With shaking fingers, he turned the damn thing off, managing such only on his third attempt. Whatever, he managed so - the end made the difference.

Outside his windows it snowed, fat snowflakes glued on every solid surface at their immediate disposition, roads, cars, people, Taemin’s happiness - or the lack of it. No mystery disappearance truth be told. In these past years, ever since the _love_ part made its cursed appearance, Taemin had only shared half-truths with the world. With himself, but especially with others, Jongin the honored guest, the one that just _wouldn’t leave_. Naturally, metaphorically speaking. And now not so metaphorically.

From its quiet start, it had all been inappropriate yet… desirable. Romantic encounters were not in Taemin’s nature or habit yet the sight of the handsome man made him weak, made him _want_ like a stubborn child crying over a desired yet unattainable toy. Yet _this_ toy made him dream too. Dream to be held close, loved, touched… and other not-so-innocent-things. They already did some. Hugs. Laughs. Hands holding. Soft eyes. Long drives. Was it then when Taemin fell in love? Perhaps, or perhaps it had been a _clique_ from the very start. Love at first sight yet discovered far later. Though, the only concrete feeling Taemin could recall regarding their first contact was his annoyance at Jongin’s infuriating personality. And… dissing the possibility of the said stranger being more talented than him. Never ever, no matter what others whispered behind his back.

Why couldn’t he have hanged onto that? Dislike, simple simple dislike, perhaps even the apparent friendship. Why did he have to go and fall in love like a fool?

Before the unfortunate news about Jongin’s brand new relationship, he used to curse himself for his endless hesitation, for wasting precious time, for not telling his best friend the truth burdening his existence. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ My my, and how lucky he had been, for now, Taemin wished to kiss his own feet as a reward. One disaster had been narrowly avoided... and how close to collision Taemin had danced.

Pleasant and not-so-pleasant memories cast aside, he was trembling far too severely to have faith in his driving skills. One look in the rearview mirror and Taemin moved onto the right lane, scanning for a parking spot on a nearby street. At two am in the morning it proved deserted, catching sight of a free place in less than one minute, a wonder in itself. Then he just sat as sad people did in the movies, breathing in, breathing out, hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. Taemin was okay after all. He was, generally speaking. _And he will be. He had to._

“You’re such a dumbass… A big dumbass.”

_Jongin doesn’t love me. He loves her. And I love him. But there’s no one at fault._

And well, that’s how life might be from now on. Jongin was happy, shouldn’t Taemin be happy for him? Like any good friend? Pretend. Fake it 'till you make it, or so they said. _No, Taemin knew himself._ He remained far too vile for any meaningful act of selflessness. Selfish yes… just as he didn’t truly want to be alone tonight. Alone meant himself and Taemin was dangerous in these moments. Yet who to go to? Who would be there for him without asking painful questions? Once upon a time Jongin, but now… absolutely no one.

Taemin left the car, slamming the door behind in an uncharacteristic yet satisfying manner. At once an assault onto his face commenced, snowflakes finding their way into his squinting eyes, forcing Taemin to gaze only at his feet while heading for the mini-market across the road. The neon red _NonStop_ sign could be discerned even through half-lidded eyes. Face mask in place Taemin entered, going straight for the juice area - alcohol would have been his first choice but he was driving tonight and in no mood to call for help. Besides, only a little spark was needed for an outrageous rumor.

_Jongin would know._

While waiting for the bored girl behind the counter to scan his Coca-Cola bottle, Taemin remembered this was far from the first time in this particular store. He had searched for ice cream with Jongin once. Now Taemin was here all alone. _Force of habit_. The knot in his stomach tightened to the point of physical discomfort.

“Bag?”

“No,” Taemin mumbled, clearing his throat while steps behind him signaled another person got in line. “It’s fine.”

“Shame.”

Rude tone but Taemin had little time to waste on such an obvious lack of manners. Perhaps she had a bad day, just like him.

 _Bad day._ How cruel this simplification. 

It invoked a poetic imaginary while he stood in front of the store, staring off in the distance as if he were a man who had all the time in the world at his disposal - Taemin doubted this was the case. Life stopped for no one. And if you ran away it ran after you, the rules proved simple. Taemin wasn’t going anywhere... but neither was Jongin. They were stuck in a vicious game only Taemin knew they were playing. And he always lost. Each and every time.

Broken heart, how mundane, how hollow. How much it hurt.

Gazing at the snow shimmering in the streetlamps Taemin took a deep breath before starting to cry. It all came down like a flood and it did not stop. The sobs, the loneliness, the love. Taemin crunched down, hands pressed over the face mask shielding the lower part of his face. _Why?_ The first and only time he fell in love and it turned out this way! Many many mistakes. _And he was so lonely!_ In the past even when Taemin had been by himself he had not been truly alone. He had his family, Shinee, Jongin, many shoulders to cry on about everything. Now Taemin carried all the weight of his secret. At the bitter realization, tears wouldn’t cease falling.

What a pathetic sight he must be. At the very least he was alone, he tried to calm himself. Then better not push his luck. Coca-Cola bottle clutched in his arms, Taemin stood, furiously wiping at his puffy red eyes. 

The road back to his car was freezing and somehow stressful as Taemin gazed over his shoulder in search of a witness - he found nothing, no one, no camera, no phone yet it said little about his predicament. The type of people doing the stalking were far smarter than this, far more resourceful. If Taemin had been spied upon by curious eyes, he should see himself on the news at first hour in the morning. Nothing to do about it now. 

He drove on. He moved on. And he thought of _him_ with _her_.

*** * ***

Next morning Taemin did wake up with news, but not concerning himself. His brief moment of realief proved rather short-lived.

_EXO’s Kai and Black Pink’s Jennie confirmed to be dating._

The phone was pushed away with unforeseen violence. Hanging on the edge of the mattress it nearly fell (wouldn’t be the first one to meet such fate). _Let it fall, smash it in pieces along with all of Jongin’s messages, as scarce as they were_ _these past days._ God, Taemin needed to stop, he needed to get up, do something other than bask in his own suffering, perhaps cease feeling at all. It was too much and too soon - he had just found an uncertain balance after the neverending nightmare since _that_ December and now this…Taemin may say he was going to be fine but he was having certain... struggles. 

So Taemin did what he knew best. He dived into work and paid mind to little else.

People noticed, of course they did… how could they not? Taemin had never been a good actor, never really strived to be. Naturally, questions were asked, none getting a clear answer. What could he say about something only he knew? Absolutely nothing… but Moonkyu and Kwonho still asked… and Taemin still lied. Ah, that was before, when he actually participated in their going-outs. Now he simply made excuses into the group chat - tour, comeback, out of the country, tired, sick ( _no, don’t come, it may be contagious_ ). It worked at first but none were stupid enough to buy the same justifications for months to no end. So Taemin lied again, hurt them again while keeping his distance, avoiding Jongin and their common friends. In time the group chat stopped sending him notifications entirely, the last messages dating four weeks ago. Taemin briefly wondered how the new chat was named, the one without him.

And well… could he blame any of them? He was the one who had pushed his friends away in the first place. It worked better for everyone, especially for Jongin. Now he had an excuse for forgetting about him - Taemin was the asshole, the one replaying coldly to the few texts he sent. The role suited Taemin like a glove. Yes, he couldn't blame them... but he neither could blame himself.

“Do you need to talk to someone? Someone specialized? For… you know...”

He was forced out of his misery musings to find his manager gazing pointedly at him through the mirror. The make-up artists had finished their job earlier than expected so now Taemin waited in relative peace for the photoshoot to begin. The usual commotion had moved to the other side of the vast room, only he and the older man still here, in the right corner amidst lights and bright colors, paints and brushes.

“What?”

“A professional… to help you with your…” the silence brought a lump in Taemin’s throat. “ _Unhappiness_. Everyone misses your smiles, misses you-”

“No thank you. I’ll be fine.” He forced a _smile_ , glad for the lack of direct eye contact. “Truly hyung, I’m fine, I promise.”

The head nod was both acceptance and bitter surrender. Yes, Taemin had been a bad actor when all of this started but he acquired more experience each and every day. He learned out of necessity and now Taemin could hold onto a half-convincing life when needed. Perhaps in time he’ll get even better and master the art. Nonetheless, progress was progress, and Taemin had always been an exceptionally brilliant student.

“Fine, have it your way but remember, we’re always here. A call or text away.”

Taemin’s fake smile grew more difficult to nurture.

“I know.”

Thankfully, he was called for today’s job not too long after. Unfortunately, no one mentioned he will meet Jongin on his way out. 

Taemin had his headphones in, music long on mute, foot tapping in annoyance outside the elevator’s doors while his manager trailed off in an animated conversation with another employee, papers exchanged between the two as well as a pen. The usual arrival tone ringed yet again and yes, they’ll miss another ride down… the third now. Taemin sighed, keeping his tongue in check and his mouth closed. Then the doors opened and his blood froze.

Once upon a time, Taemin would have smiled from ear to ear. But not now.

Jongin alongside the rest of EXO escaped the crowded space of the elevator, a cup of coffee in hand, grinning, friendly bickering with a tired-looking Baekhyun... at least until he spotted Taemin right before him. The rest grew quiet too. _They were not supposed to be here at this time, the manager had said so – he promised so, he had -_. Even though Taemin didn’t seek his eyes, he could tell his former best friend was staring straight at him, probably frozen on his feet by the unexpected sight of Taemin standing there like a bad omen in the horror movies he so despised. But, unpleasant surprise cast aside, Jongin could do nothing else but take the few steps forward left to take, stopping right beside Taemin.

“Good to see you,” greeted Sehun with a grimace while Jongin made a point to look anywhere else but at Taemin. 

“Hi,” he briefly responded, for the moment not trusting himself to say more.

Taemin saw them all, how they frowned at Jongin’s unusual behavior towards him, as if Taemin wasn’t even in the same vicinity. They could tell something was wrong with a single glance… maybe knew of it long before this chance meeting. Taemin’s hands were trembling at the realization, painfully aware of the cheap show he was starring in. And he was cold, so very cold, as if the temperature in SM’s building had dropped down a few degrees. Why was he so cold?

Gathering what was left of his pride, he stared up, at last, to find Jongin already gazing down at him. Same old Jongin, a little worn out in his posture due to the late hour but nothing else out of place. He looked painfully handsome… but not happy as he met Taemin’s eyes. It appeared Jongin didn’t find any joy in seeing him for the first time in months. 

Taemin swallowed the painful lump in his throat. _When did you stop smiling at me?_ he asked himself like a silly child. But wasn’t this what he had wished for? To strip off their painful friendship? To have a chance at happiness? A fresh start? Both of them?

At long last, it appeared Jongin yielded to the silent peer pressure oozing from his group members.

“So… how’s you’ve been lately?” he asked, looking into Taemin’s eyes, managing to sound utterly uninterested, as if making small talk with a random stranger about random things. As if this meeting was nothing but a chore to be done with. Gone were the warmth, the hidden jokes, the secrets, the short prelude to the act of touching. Now it seemed a wall high as the sky stood between them.

“Good,” Taemin said, tone frozen even to his own ears. He prayed his face was too, just as frozen as his hands - shaking yet so very chilly. At the same time, something tangible was crumbling inside his chest, leaving an ugly emptiness in its place. 

Their brief conversation was so cringeworthy Taemin prayed he could turn back time and take the damn stairs.

“I’ve been good too, thanks for asking.” Jongin’s tone turned venomous at once, perhaps waiting for the opportunity for a while now.

There was an audible gasp from their audience. The managers had gone quiet too.

“But I didn’t ask”, he bit right back, wishing to hit just as hard as he had been hit. Gone was his planned politeness... but it didn’t feel like it mattered. _Just let it be done_.

“Did you ever?” asked Jongin, now distant, scolding his taken aback expression into a blank mask of uncaringness. _Oh, but he did care… or, if not care, he did resent, and feverishly so._ Beneath the weak put together indifference, Jongin must be burning with the need to deliver a well-placed punch. Taemin could read all the signs. He was amazed Jongin had forgotten to read his own signs in return.

There was no verbal closure as, after another tension charged glance, Jongin simply walked away. Taemin didn’t stare after him and Jongin surely never looked back.

The silence which followed was drowning while Taemin focused on the intricate model on… _someone's_ shirt. Two wings. A bat? No, but not a bird either… those scales… ah, a dragon then. ' _Game of Thrones'_ shirt, he found out moments later. He discerned a ' _Dracarys'_ in bright red font.

“Hyung”, called the owner of the shirt, Sehun, brows furrowed in concern. “Want to talk about it?”

_Why did everyone want to talk these days?_

“Not really. Have a good night.” 

Taemin moved around the group, slamming the button for the damned elevator. _Please be here, please be here… and it was!_ He bothered not wait for his bewildered manager, he simply left, went down… but not as down as his spirits.

The underground parking lot, thankfully, proved deserted. He stood there, filling his lungs with air. Now Taemin was warm, unnaturally so. One deep breath after another he regained his calm, seeking to banish the not-so-silent accusations exchanged upstairs from his memory. Jongin had let go, he should let go too, Taemin had his proof now. He should be happy it all turned out so well. Too well.

Before crippling tremors took over, the manager arrived, peering at him full of worry… like a parent would. He stepped closer but initiated no touch, simply walked by Taemin’s side while heading for the car. Even once inside and well on their way home, they remained silent, the older man focused on the road, and Taemin not able to concentrate on anything, truth be told. He didn’t have the heart to speak just yet. What if… what if he cried? Just at the thought, Taemin felt his eyes burn.

“Kid… you two should sort it out. Seriously now, just forget the _before_. Just talk to each other like adults should. You’re best friends, you’ll get to the end of it eventually, whatever the problem is. I’ve seen it all before.”

Taemin’s lower lip was quivering by the end of that sentence, definitely on the point of shedding unwanted tears.

“Can’t you just take me home already?”

There was no hesitation in his manager’s voice, no resentment either. Taemin didn’t deserve him.

“Whatever you wish for.”

The unsaid subject of Jongin was let go of for the rest of the ride. By the time Taemin went into his flat both anger and futility clouded his senses. He slammed doors into the night, he kicked shoes out of the way, he threw clothes which landed in places they were not supposed to be. He himself rested into a place not meant for rest.

The kitchen floor was as uncomfortable as one would imagine while Taemin drained down one glass of water after another. He sat in silence, alone with his vicious thoughts, playing his quiet game, taking note of familiar yet unfamiliar sights. The apartment appeared bigger now. _It’s still the same, stupid_. _Just… the meeting had ruined everything… your objective perceptions of things, the calm, the peace and quiet_. Adam and Eve were at his parents too... for a while… _I’ll get them back_ , he promised himself. _I’ll get everything back, everything beside him_.

His own reflection on the pitch-black fridge’s doors seemed to mock Taemin.

_Not truly yours to take back, was he?_

Taemin’s jaw throbbed from clenching it so hard.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and just as always, comments are more than well-received:)

“Minnie… this may sound harsh but… don’t waste your life on him if you’re sticking with silence and secrets.”

“I’m not wasting anything,” he defended himself, accepting the apricot yogurt from Kibum’s perfectly manicured hands, smelling faintly of lavender or some other smelly perfume. “I’m perfectly fine, isn't it obvious?”

Schedule set to begin in a little more than half an hour, the remaining three of them were back at the dorm for a limited number of nights. Minho is still in his room getting dressed, while he and Kibum wait not-so-patiently upon the kitchen stools. 

“You’re being characteristically stubborn,” the other insists when Taemin still doesn't bother to reply. “We all know your antics so cut the unnecessary drama. Scratch that Minnie, literally everyone else does. Haven’t you bothered to scroll on social media lately?”

The chill running down Taemin’s spine had little to do with the flavored yogurt previously stored in their fancy fridge.

“Well... what does it say?”

Kibum sighs in obvious annoyance.

“Aish… a fight between you two, this kind of discourse, speculations. The fans are worried. They have eyes, you know.”

Of course they had… who said they didn’t?

That being said, Taemin planted his spoon inside the remaining yogurt before pushing it away, suddenly disgusted with it and everything else. With sharp eyes, Kibum followed the movement. He sighed yet again, this time alluding to pity... and annoyance still.

“Really mature.”

“Whatever.”

Every mean replay died in Kibum’s throat as soon as Minho entered the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge, blissfully oblivious to the sour mood.

“Good morning.”

“I’d be good if Minnie would learn some manners every once in a while.”

And there it went again, the bickering. Though… with them, it was the warmest bickering one could ever ask for.

*** * ***

He’s in Japan and against all wishful thinking, nothing becomes easier. Yes, Taemin’s busier, that much is true, but when away from concert venues, his extraordinary fans and the team behind his famous name, Taemin is utterly and entirely alone. Kibum and Minho are both in the army now, and, in spite of regular communication, things just weren’t the same. They weren’t _here,_ and on a screen, however expensive, even Taemin’s smile seemed genuine so no many specific questions were asked. But, at the end of a day... why even complain and wish for something else? He liked to believe he was not selfish enough to further burden his family with imaginary problems with simple solutions. Taemin could handle himself, Taemin could evolve and grow by himself. They had taught him so.

Yes, he should take this emotional isolation as an exercise of sorts. Wise theory, but when in his hotel room and Netflix asked if he was still watching one show or another, Taemin wasn’t quite so sure he was on the path of his initial plan. Whatever the case, Lee Taemin was no quitter. He will go on and act proud about it. Even if it was a lie, even if he failed.

The screen of his phone blinked as it rested next to him on the hotel bed. It was set on _silent_ these days… weeks… well… months. Taemin wasn’t feeling especially guilty. His interactions were not many to begin with, and most concerned the professional aspect of his life. The rest were fewer. Without meaning. Shallower. 

Taemin lazily reached out for his mobile and froze. A notification from Moonkyu stared back at him. In spite of rationality and past plans, he opened the conversation, cringing at the date of their previous message… three months ago. But then his eyes fell upon the new one.

_Hey. I’m in town. If it’s not too late, want to go out for a drink?_

Taemin’s fingers hovered above the too-bright screen, heart hammering in his chest, entertaining a polite refusal… when another notification arrived, nearly instantly.

_It’s just me._

_Fine, text me the address._

The taxi driver thankfully doesn’t recognize him _._ The man is too busy whistling a tune of a song Taemin does not find familiar. He throws him a fugitive look at last, while they awkwardly wait for the payment confirmation. Facemask in place, Taemin knows he looks like nothing special, not while you couldn’t see most of his face. But perhaps he inspires attraction either way… or at least curiosity.

He shouldn’t care either way — nonetheless, he kind of does. In truth, Taemin could hardly believe himself these days. He was feeding off all the wrong reasons. It was a downwards spiral of some sort. But still, he refused to move even an inch back. 

This meeting was also judged as _wrong_ as soon as Taemin’s eyes meet Moonkyu’s. Either way, too late to run away now, so he marches towards the remote table, taking the empty seat, dread already coiling in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey,” he called with hollow-sounding enthusiasm.

“Hey.”

There was no hug, no pat on the back, no smile. The awkwardness could be cut with a knife, a knife cutting through flesh… perhaps even deeper. Taemin stored the thought away, petty inspiration for future songs.

“I ordered your favorite to save time,” his former friend announced, gesturing to the several steaming bowls spread across the table.

“No longer my favorite.”

Moonkyu blinks at him before placing his chopsticks against the food bowl. In a heartbeat guilt catches up with Taemin, makes him ashamed, makes his cheeks burn from the unwanted feeling. He hadn’t expected any of this to be enjoyable or easy, but the reality proved far more uncomfortable than the initial prediction.

The other man finished chewing before forming a replay, leaving Taemin room to bask both in self-loathing and self-pity, then some more space for blaming himself for experiencing both. He should have been past that — he had thought himself past that. Apparently not.

“Yeah, well, I guess many things kind of changed lately. Right?”

“Did you want to meet for... _this_? To exchange petty accusations? Don’t know about you, but I have no time to waste.”

A low blow from his part but small victories were still victories at the end of a bad day.

“Are you done?”

Taemin sighs, turning his attention to the food. 

“Honestly, yes, I am. Are you?”

In spite of his harsh words, he chews on fried meat as Moonkyu apparently struggles to form a response… or at least a polite one. In the end, the other man ends up with his face in his palms for a short moment.

“Gosh, you can be so insufferable at times… you always kind of were, truly. What’s so bad in me wanting to see my friend? Do tell me.”

At that, Taemin once again tastes guilt but sure enough, nothing shows onto his face. He’s getting better at this day by day.

“Oh, nothing wrong… just strange, considering everything. You know what I mean.”

“But I really don’t. Taemin, you’re the one who left, who turned his back on us on a whim. Don’t kid yourself about _anything_.”

“On a whim? Do you think me this petty?”

“You gave me many reasons to.”

This game of _push and pull_ proved exhausting and utterly useless. Moonkyu with his accusations, Taemin with his vicious defense, may-be accusations just as well. The truth was not objective, hence no common ground to be found. At one, he regretted coming here in the first place. What had he been thinking, really? That they’ll pick on from where they left off, like nothing changed? That Monnkyu was not bitter? That _Taemin_ was not?

“What’s done is done. I don’t want to talk about it, there’s no point. Now, are you eating or not?”

His friend stared at him as if Taemin were a stranger — no, you can’t be so profoundly disappointed by mere strangers, it never got this personal. And Moonkyu still did not eat, busy with being so profoundly disappointed in Taemin.

“What have we ever done to you?”

It was Taemin’s turn to place down his chopsticks, knowing a dead end when he saw one. Yet, as always, there was nothing to be lost with trying once again, in any possible shape or form.

“Would you believe that it’s not about you? it’s about me — everything else is side effects.”

“Oh. So that’s what I and our friends are to you? Side effects? Even Jongin?”

A single name managed to infuriate Taemin more than that entire sentence. Something must have shown onto his face as his past friend grew very still, looking at him very… _closely_ , in lack of a better word.

“What do you even think he’s done to you?”

 _You think!_ As if Taemin’s feelings were only a miscalculation, an error, something to be discarded on the basis of not having a correspondent in reality. It ignited blinding fury beneath his skin, laboring his breathing and self-control. 

_Dead end indeed._

“I’ll pay the check,” he announces, standing up. Taemin’s hands were trembling as he reached for his wallet, placing more banknotes than realistically necessary next to Moonkyu’s bowl. Moonkyu who looked as if slapped when Taemin stilled in his movements and met his eyes. “Fact is, I’ll never be how you remember me. I guess I can offer you only a new friendship… or no friendship at all. Take care of yourself.”

Moonkyu is silent in his response as Taemin leaves, harboring the specific feeling that he had just made a grave mistake. In all fairness, it’s incredibly difficult not to — not to look back and allow himself to be weak and needy, but then again, the right thing was never easy. And so, with purpose, he went out on his own, tapping on his phone for a taxi. This was done, all choices were made and Taemin did not once look back… he had way too much to prove to both others and himself.

*** * ***

Things are peaceful for a while… quiet. Well, not really quiet _quiet_ , but it’s this way they register to Taemin. Only work for weeks and in-between small moments of rest before returning to the studio and the practice room, and then the process repeats itself for days to no end — yet Taemin is far from complaining. It keeps his mind off things… mostly, at least when he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open after returning to his apartment. These were the good days.

At the thought of his apartment, he’s filled with shame that Adam and Eve are still at his parent's house, in spite of initial plans, but then his name is called with urgency and Taemin lets it all go. Today already announces itself as dangerous, no need to make it any worse.

He goes through rehearsals very early in the morning, tired-looking staff smiling at him with trays of coffee balanced in their hands. Taemin smiles right back, thankful for the unusual program and the chance not to meet a certain individual. The sudden rift in friendship had become apparent and the company was attempting to salvage the situation in their own peculiar way that went quite well with Taemin’s strategy — avoidance, and when not possible, polite indifference. Once again, he’s pleased they had not forced reconciliation… just the minimum decency when in public. Personally, Taemin didn’t know who they were trying to fool. Fans may not see everything… but they saw _some thing_ s. And they knew something was wrong, where before nothing was wrong.

That being said, it’s all usual routine now.

This particular routine proves more fruitful than usual — he does not bump into EXO and least of all Jongin. The stage is wide, many artists, countless loud fans. It’s easy to bask in self-glory at the dedicated fans chanting his name. In these moments Taemin feels most glorious, feels like he’s doing something good for once, something that makes him worthy, proud of himself. But when it goes a little bit more quiet and the chanting stops, things go… not so smoothly. But they go, one direction or another.

Half of him holds regrets about going to the after-party of the event.

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Taemin takes the free seat next to Changmin who smiles broadly at the sight of him as if they haven’t seen each other in ages… which was not a lie at all.

“I guess I didn’t come to these for quite a while.”

The understatement of the century.

“You could say that for sure... and then some.”

There’s sarcasm in Changmin’s words, but not in his expression, not in his knowing eyes. A shiver trails down Taemin’s spine, feeling a little bit _too seen_ for his comfort. _Just a feeling_ , he tells himself, _and you want to be past these, now_. Only half-convinced of his own narrative, Taemin accepts the drink Changmin offers and takes a sip without showing interest in the exact contents — champagne, he finds moments later. It’s good in a way only quality champagne could be, and, after a prolonged look across the crowded room, he discovers countless bottles at their disposal.

“SM didn’t hold back this time,” he comments, raising his glass in order to signal his exact meaning.

New company slopes down next to the other man and Baekhyun seems overly excited by Taemin’s presence, all things considered. Taemin awkwardly smiles back, pushing back against the childish urge to associate Baekhyun with Jongin — it would be unfair and illogical to some extent. Anyways, the club was spacious enough to lose yourself in not once but twice, dim lights blurring faces to the point of unrecognition.

“New shareholders,” Baekhyun chimes in, as Changmin nods in agreement.

Taemin nods as well, mostly to feign interest in the topic. Truth be told, he doesn’t really care about sponsors. Other, more pressing problems are in need of his immediate attention, and none concern paperwork, not really. Distantly, Taemin watches the animated people on the dance floor, thinking they were trying too hard to be decent while moving to a song that was not about decency at all, lyrics nor rhythm.

He participates in the ensuing conversation just so. Familiar topics. They complain about tight schedules, exciting new projects, the new sponsors… but mostly they drink. The fact a certain subject is avoided represents like a giant elephant in the room, but at this point, Taemin is used to such tension. It’s no longer unbearable or uncomfortable, it’s just… _there_.

“Bathroom?” he asks, sometime after his sixth glass of champagne.

Furrowing his brows, it takes a bit for Baekhyun to remember, or perhaps concentrate.

“Let me think... Ah, straight ahead, then in the hallway still ahead and to the right... I think.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t finish the new bottle without me.”

They all laugh, knowing all too well numerous others stood at their disposal.

“No promises, so hurry.”

Taemin fondly shakes his head as he makes his way through the crowd, nodding at some people while avoiding others. Not long after, as he washed his hands in the bathroom, Taemin finds himself humming an unreleased song, quite content with this evening so far — in spite of initial presumptions, he doesn’t regret coming. That feels like progress and the smirk he offers himself into the mirror is entirely justifiable. It drops one second later as he catches sight of the man gazing his way. They had both closed the tap at the exact same time. Said man is bluntly staring and Taemin stares in turn. They do so for a long time.

The stranger presents an enjoyable image, objectively speaking. Older than him, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with a sharp face that’s classically handsome… and with a wedding ring on his finger. Taemin sees it as the man reaches up to fix his perfectly styled hair… all while the man’s eyes had not left Taemin's own for a single moment. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, or perhaps he’s just bored and in unnatural good spirits, but Taemin says something that isn’t very appropriate, all things considered.

“Why stare so hard for? Am I this pretty?”

No one laughs. Taemin blinks, confused and a bit embarrassed by the non-reaction as the man kept on studying, his presence… tense. Yet, tense and with purpose, he inched closer and closer, leaning down until he breathed right into Taemin’s space.

“Sangwoo,” the man offers. “Very nice to meet you. And yes, I find you pretty. Very pretty.”

A prolonged silence settles in.

“Oh. Thank you.”

The man, Sangwoo, smiles down at him and Taemin becomes aware things were no longer innocent here. And, against all reasoning and ethics, Taemin pushed nothing away — didn’t push _him_ away. Perhaps he should… or perhaps not. Who really cared at this point?

“May I kiss you?”

Well, he’d done craziest things in his life.

“Yes please.”

No time wasted as Sangwoo's lips covered his, sure hands into Taemin’s hair, tilting his head in all the right places. It was hurried but so very good as the man scooped him up with ease, placing him on the bathroom sink. Sangwoo pressed into him with his entire body and Taemin was overwhelmed by being so through-fully kissed by a man, by a strong man. _This was really happening._ Taemin was making out with a married man in this public bathroom where anyone could enter at any time. The possibility proved awfully satisfying, exciting beyond words.

“Taemin… so pretty,” Sangwoo urged against his mouth, punctuating each word with a nip on Taemin’s lips. “ _So damn pretty_.”

Taemin shuddered in the man’s firm hold, for a few seconds not understanding why Sangwoo suddenly stilled his movements, why his lips were not back onto Taemin’s. He blinks, confused that the hands on his face trailed down until dropping completely from his check. Taemin follows Sangwoo's gaze to the sudden element of disruption. He was glad he was sitting on the bathroom sink, otherwise his knees would have long given out.

In the doorway, hands frozen onto his belt, Jongin was staring at them — but mostly at _him_. His expression may not be obvious to anyone else, but Taemin knew exactly where to place it… he has seen it only once before, when he and Jongin had watched a not so pretty horror movie, more specifically, an incest scene. The expressions were different only to the point in time when they had occurred. Now, the level of disgust on Jongin’s face sent shivers of despair down his spine.

“Do go on, forgive the interruption. But really, go on, don’t let me stop you degrading yourself. Seriously Taemin, do what you know best.”

Oh. Taemin can only be silent as Sangwoo cleared his throat, all while the revulsion in Jongin's eyes made him feel small and pathetic. Until now, Taemin didn’t know his heart could ache quite like this. Against his better judgment, underneath the disgust glimpsed in those familiar orbs, Taemin could nearly convince himself there’s something more to see, like Jongin ached to come closer and return to the way they used to be. Like Jongin didn’t hate who Taemin truly was. All while Taemin hoped and waited… but Jongin stood back. It was only disgust to be glimpsed, after all.

Only revulsion reserved for Taemin.

Through tears, he more heard than saw the door slamming shut, an obvious clue of Jongin's pointed retreat.

So far, so good.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Twitter @baemin_ah


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He he, I'm not dead:)
> 
> Anyways, stream Taemin's mv xoxo

The ceiling was of no real interest and yet Taemin continued to furiously stare at it, almost expecting it to be sharing secrets. On an unfamiliar yet comfortable couch in another waiting room, sleep had evaded him in spite of the blanket and two pillows his manager had wordlessly provided, little over one hour ago. Now faint voices echoed down the hallway while Taemin could not be bothered to make sense of it all.

He exhaled loudly with no one to hear.

In quiet and eventless moments such as these Taemin’s thoughts inevitably wander to Jongin — how easy it would be to just type a short text, not even ten words, extend an invitation for… _whatever_ and then wait for his former best friend to respond. But then he remembers the disgust in Jongin’s eyes when he watched Taemin kiss Sangwoo and he sets his phone down, suddenly sick in the stomach, refusing more hurt than he already had been dealt. He should let it all go, the love, the attachment, the fun times long gone, anything and everything — even the metaphorical language he and Jongin will never speak with each other and anyone else ever again.

With newfound ambition that was certainly powered by bitterness, Taemin pushed the blanket aside and went on an eventless journey in search of his manager. A justifiable distraction. He needed not look too far, only two doors away, the place from where all the commotion was coming from. 

The man spots him immediately, abandoning his place by the table covered in papers and laptops, signaling Taemin to follow him to the more quiet atmosphere the balcony had to offer. Greeting the rest of the staff, Taemin does.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

It’s rather chilly outside and none were dressed for the occasion but neither he or the older man were complaining.

“I tried, but I’m not really sleepy.”

“That would be a first,” the manager laughed before catching up to Taemin’s less than ideal mood. “Are you ok?”

Taemin tries to not be bothered by this never-ending question. Mister Park meant well, he knew, but… he hated those three insufferable words in this particular order! Nonetheless, Taemin attempted a smile, a believable one after so much practice.

“Yes, very fine. Listen, these past few days I’ve considered some things and I’m going to take that photoshoot in Germany next month.”

The man raised both eyebrows in obvious surprise.

“Really? But that was a pending offer with no real obligations. With all the concert preparations and the actual concerts, you’re already packed for the next few months… actually, the rest of the year. Squeezing another thing in there will make things kind of difficult. For you, I mean. Tiring. Unnecessary.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Minnie, give it a proper thought. Say no, get some well-deserved rest — your superman complex is dangerous, relax a little.”

Taemin slowly exhaled his impatience, leaning against the frozen balcony, gazing through the transparent door at the people laughing and fretting inside. He knew them all but it was like looking at complete strangers. No names came to mind. The temporally unknown _them_ entertained an opposite mood than his own, one Taemin could not relate to, at least not right now. And, in the darkest corners of his mind, he resented them all, just like he resented Jongin. 

How dare they be happy when Taemin was not?

At once another chilling certainty washed over him — Taemin will never get over Jongin getting over him. And that was utterly pitiful.

“I just want to work…,” he hurried to let out. “It gets my mind off things. And that’s very healthy.”

As soon as Mister Park sighs, Taemin knows he’d won. He should feel victorious, only that he doesn’t. No, he mostly feels tired, which may be another word for sad, because Taemin is not physically tired, not really, just mentally. For a time he had considered a vacation, yet when those hours filled with only himself came to mind, Taemin knew such a course of action was anything but wise. Work represented the only viable option for potential improvement.

“Have it your way then. I’ll notify the team of the change in schedule.” His manager let out a feeble laugh, already heading back into the room. “At least Song Sangwoo will be very happy to hear this.”

Taemin’s heart skips in an interesting type of way.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

Mister Park stops to look at him.

“About Sangwoo? Oh, he’s just one of the newest shareholders, you probably missed him and his wife at last night's party. Actually, he’s the one who got the deal with the photoshoot in Germany for you. Quite excited about the project. Going to be even more excited now that you’ve said ‘yes’.”

“That’s… wonderful.”

It was as good of a word as any.

Not long after, Taemin was once again left with his own wonderful thoughts.

Thing was, he wasn’t quite sure what to feel about him kissing that man, Sangwoo or whatever his name was. _That married man._ That man. Sure, Taemin may have been a bit drunk, but not drunk enough not to be aware of his own decisions, and no one had forced him to open his mouth to welcome Sangwoo’s tongue. It had been more than a curiosity for a brand new experience — Taemin had craved the touch of a man for a while now… when the most needed one was so cruelly denied to him. But Sangwoo had been there, handsome, charming and willing. _And married._ Taemin refused to dwell too much on that.

He hadn’t known then.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket, Taemin’s stomach did a funny thing. What were the odds... he wondered.

Apparently, high enough.

_Yesterday I had the honor of having a one-on-one fan meeting with the incredible Lee Taemin. May I have another?_

He should be appealed. He really should. But he really wasn’t.

_Sangwoo, you’re married and I play no games._

The replay arrives nearly instantly.

_Me and my wife, we both take substantial liberties in the romance department. So, what do you say?_

_When and where?_

As Taemin takes a screenshot of the time and address, he tells himself this is only another way to busy himself… and to know more of himself. He takes a deep breath, fingers twisting in the puffy material of his sweater. The fact that he entertains the shameless advances of a married man already tells him enough — but then again, why label himself shameless for what promised to be a mutually beneficial arrangement where no one’s feelings were hurt, participants or otherwise? So why _shameless_? Just because the disgust in Jongin’s eyes called it so?

Now, _that_ should make him feel ashamed.

Point is, Taemin is not ashamed, not even hours later as he pushes both clean and sweat-soaked clothes at the bottom of his gym bag. If his hands trembled, it was no one’s business but his own. There’s a pleasant buzz around, idle chatter and whatnot, and Taemin chips in from time to time because the times he avoided people like the plague are long gone. 

By the time conversations are dying and participants are leaving for their evening plans and Taemin is diving through another few articles of clothing he had left behind times before, out of nowhere his stomach turns into knots, and a wave of nausea washes over him. His nails punctured the green sweater so deeply that the material threatens to give in and turn to shreds right between his palms. _Jongin’s sweater turned to shreds._ Taemin drops the material as if burned. It rests innocently on the immaculate floor, sulling Taemin’s mood by sight alone.

Memories of better times flood, just as expected. Late nights and early mornings, sleeping over, photographs, Jongin pushing his own sweater in Taemin’s hands, laughing at him moments after as Taemin swims in the giant piece of material, skilfully striking a pose.

But of course this was happening now — just his particular brand of luck.

A familiar voice coughs from behind and yes, today was proving to be a worse-than-usual-day. Scolding his face, Taemin turned and faced an equally unimpressed Jongin who simply stared at him… and then stared some more.

“Do you want something or are you just looking?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Jongin’s venomous answer to his own venomous question only served to piss Taemin off.

“I really wouldn’t,” he lied, perching up his chin. “Just making polite conversation like polite people do.”

There’s silence and then Jongin’s gaze travels down, right at Taemin’s feet. No, not at his feet. Not really.

“Why are you here?” he insists only to hear something, even if the other man is no longer looking at him.

Well… right until he does.

“Can’t I take back what’s mine?”

With measured but sure steps, he stalks closer, until mere breaths are left between the two of them and Taemin has a horrifying realization. It dawned on him that he wasn’t feeling comfortable around Jongin. He used to — once upon a time, not long ago, but not now. There was something in Jongin’s eyes that made him feel quite uneasy. Which, all things considered, it’s pretty stupid to be made uncomfortable by the man you’re miserably in love with. Or perhaps exactly because of that. 

Then Jongin leans down, gathering his sweater with the tip of his fingers, not even once letting go of Taemin’s eyes and Taemin wants him gone so bad it hurts in a place no physical touch could graze. Wants him gone and far away and closer at the same time. _He wanted himself away._ Every inch of him felt ambushed by Jongin’s appearance and he definitely wasn’t ready for a direct confrontation that may or may not require an explanation. 

But, apparently, the confrontation was happening either way.

“Fine,” he sighs. “You got what you wanted, now leave.”

The hard movement of Jongin’s jaw is quite visible.

“We’re not at your place for you to order me out,” the other drawls.

“Whatever, I don’t care. I’m the one leaving, then.”

Backpack flung over his shoulder Taemin leaves... and he’s only a little bit surprised when he becomes aware that footsteps are closing in on him. Kim Jongin had always been stubborn. Apparently some things didn’t change.

“Need a ride?”

That particular sentence makes him pause in the semi-dark parking lot. It’s completely out of the blue, so out of place Taemin doesn’t know what to say. He turned on his heels to find dark eyes on him… but the eyes were not kind. Apparently some things did change.

“Jongin, you can’t always fix what’s broken. So don’t bother.”

“It’s funny how you think I should bother fixing this,” Jongin says, gesturing between the two. “Whatever. It’s late now so quit acting like a brat, get in the car and tell me where to drop you off. It’s that simple… please.”

For once Taemin does as told, pretending not to hear that one last word. Besides, it’s not reflected in Jongin’s expression or behavior at all. There’s only coldness and metaphorical distance and as the familiar car pulls into the road for the hotel room where Sangwoo awaits, Taemin feels this mistake in every cell of his body. He shouldn’t have accepted Jongin’s proposal, he shouldn’t be going where he’s going — nothing good was coming out of either of these decisions.

Both keep their silence in the beginning, eyes straight ahead and mouths shut in stubborn pettiness… but then comes the inevitable and Taemin congratulates himself for not flinching or otherwise reacting.

“You let him fuck you right before a schedule? Must have enough training then.”

That fact that Jongin is aware of his schedule is put to rest by the actual words uttered his way.

“You fuck your girlfriend and I fuck him. What’s the problem?”

In the redness of the traffic lights, the knuckles on the steering wheel turn bone white. Ah, so that pissed Jongin off... which greatly pleased Taemin. He debates pushing a little more. 

“Watch what you’re saying. I’m not as shameless as you.”

That word again. _Shameless_. Sudden humiliated tears were gathering in Taemin’s eyes and he fully turned his face towards the window.

“Fuck you, Kim Jongin”, he whispers both at his own stupid reflection and at the stupid man beside him.

“Why? Are you offering?”

The loathing in Jongin’s tone is unmistakable, but at least Taemin doesn’t also glimpse his face. For the longest time, Taemin didn’t trust himself to talk, only doing so when the car started to considerably lose speed, the shadow of the hotel complex making itself known.

“Many thanks for the pleasant ride.”

He’s halfway out of the car when Jongin speaks again, less venomous that Taemin had mentally prepared himself for.

“I just, it’s — just stay, let’s talk. We really should talk.”

Taemin truly considers this scenario — he imagines it so vividly he could nearly touch it. Him staying, Jongin insisting on an explanation, a shouting match followed by a confession and then by the crushing disappointment in Jongin’s gaze, followed by even more disgust and Taemin’s heart even more broken then it already was.

“No, thanks. Have a good night.”

“Taemin, this is on you,” Jongin utters through his teeth in that one tone signaling he’s angry for real. “You can’t turn back if you leave like this. It’s not fair to me, not fair to what we were… it’s just not fucking fair.”

Taemin had the strangest urge to laugh. He only smiles in the end. 

“Yes, on me. Your best friend who had your back for years, the one you took for granted. Everything is on me.”

With more force than necessary, he slams the car door shut, stepping with new-found determination towards the hotel entrance, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. Judging by the sound of the car speeding away Jongin had already left, probably to avoid any other possible form of confrontation after the not-long-ago-fiasco. Smart move.

Taemin decided he was walking away from Jongin as well. He convinced no one but hey, maybe the thousand times’s the charm. Who knew?

“Who cares?” he echoes out loud. 

The elevator ride to the sixth floor appeared to take an eternity and then some. Countless mental states pass and go, but in the end Taemin decides what’s done is done. Jongin had happened… but he was here now, following another purpose… one independent from the other man. That being said, it was out of his hands now as the room's door swung open in response to three timid knocks.

“Who made you cry?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Taemin insists as Sangwoo welcomes him inside, already extending a glass of… _something_ towards him.

Taemin doesn’t really care as he gulps it all in one go, tentatively stepping to sit on the edge of the bed. The now-empty glass is abandoned somewhere next to his left leg as Taemin finally meets Sangwoo’s eyes. The way this man was studying him was both simple and complicated and Taemin hadn’t yet decided if he hated it or not. He had many reasons to, many reasons not to.

“He should cry for making you cry,” Sangwoo shrugs.

This time Taemin really couldn’t help the laugh bubbling in his throat.

“I didn’t think you wanted me here for a free therapy session.”

“You had shitty therapy before if you think this is the standard.”

In spite of all the other existing reasons, it was pretty difficult to dislike Sangwoo… so Taemin put a stop at all the quiet attempts in this direction. With a sigh, he leaned back, seeking relaxation against the expensive mattress, feeling those sharp eyes trailing down his body. Taemin mentally counted to ten before Sangwoo draped himself over him, heat and muscles and everything to Taemin’s liking.

“You’re staring at me,” Taemin whispers between what little space remains between their mouths.

It feels good, daring. _He feels good_ , while fingers expertly play with a few strands of pale hair and Sangwoo hums.

“So are you. Also, I happen to be on top of you.”

The kiss which follows seemed the most appropriate thing to do… and so does the rest.

*** * ***

Taemin is awake for exactly five seconds when he sighs in utter annoyance, having forgotten to draw the curtains last night… or this morning. He hears the shower running and he wants to both cry and laugh. Instead, Taemin does neither, clumsy and mechanically getting up, bitterly ignoring the morning sun, searching through the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor. Dressed, he watches himself in the giant mirror in the room and, in spite of everything, he doesn’t feel any different. Perhaps just tired.

The world was the same as yesterday. _Utterly disappointing._ Last night, when he had moved into Sangwoo’s lap, Taemin had felt different, a good different. The short passing of time proved the feeling to be temporary.

He had a short notice before his may-be-lover came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, looking handsome and in a considerably better mood than Taemin. It dawns on him that this man had fucked him — the realization makes him a little warm.

“How do you feel?”

At least it wasn’t the standard _are you okay._ Also, the intended meaning aimed at something else, so it didn’t cut as sharp as it could have.

“Surprisingly good, all things considered.”

Taemin obviously means the sex, but Sangwoo raises a brow before moving his impressive height closer to the bedpost Taemin was leaning against.

“Even considering the miserable mood you entertained last night? The one you didn’t want to talk about?”

Taemin shrugs as a warm hand settles onto his waist, wordlessly prompting him to look up.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” he answered truthfully with a shrug of his own. “It wasn’t the purpose of our meeting.”

“I’m interested in everything about you.”

He of course wished for this… but from someone else. Now the words simply echoed as hollow. No joy, no other feeling besides annoyance at how unfair everything was to him. Naturally, Taemin didn’t know what to say so he preferred to say nothing at all, reaching up on his tiptoes to playfully lick at Sangwoo’s lips. 

His advances were very much welcomed and as strong hand reeled him in to press against a firm body, Taemin could almost pretend this was Jongin. Jongin’s mouth, Jongin’s hands and Jongin’s body… but not Jongin’s smell.

A bit later, while Sangwoo pushed between his legs, Taemin thought it quite sad he still remembered the way Jongin smelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Twitter @baemin_ah


End file.
